Death
by Fwe
Summary: He knew what was coming, and he knew that he couldn't stop it. Hayes's last thoughts.


**Death **

Title: Death

Author: Fwe

Summery: On Hayes last thoughts. Possible AU.

Disclaimer: I do not own King Kong, Jimmy, or Hayes. Darn...

A/N: This has been edited for your reading pleasure. :) I brought it up only because I need to know if I missed anything or something looks off to you all. Any help would be appreciated.

**

* * *

**

Hayes didn't even scream as he fell into the canyon. He knew what was coming, and he knew he couldn't stop it. So, all there was left to do was fall, and watch as the horror on Jimmy's face became ingrained so deep into his memory, that when he closed his eyes to feel the wind rushing past him, he could still see the young man's face in his mind's eye. It was a horrible last thing to imagine, and he appeared to have a lot of time to imagine it, as time seemed to slow for him as he came closer and closer to the ground.

No matter how he tried to shake the image and concentrate on a few things closer at hand- like dying for example- he couldn't get his mind from Jimmy. What would he do without him? Would he be stuck on that ship for the rest of his life, and end up an old crab like him? Would he give up on everything? Or would he simply go back to that half crazed state he'd first discovered him in? Each possibility seemed to outweigh the last in stark chance so horrifying that he began to fear the final landing he knew would inevitably come. If he were to land, it would all end, and Jimmy would be left to all of those terrible things, and many more unimaginable ones.

It couldn't happen. He couldn't let it happen. But how can someone stop gravity or time? How can someone stop death? The impossibility of the situation struck Hayes with such a vicious blow, that even as the rocks were piercing into his back and legs, the pain of the realization far outweighed the physical blow.

But as all things are often found to be too short, Hayes' reverie was cut to ribbons, and before he knew it; Hayes knew no more.

* * *

It was so terribly dark. A gentle mist swirled above Hayes' motionless body, as his ragged breathing began to slow. His mind was sluggish and miscalculating, as if he were half asleep. What had happened? 

He recalled falling from the log, and hitting the ground... but that couldn't have happened. He felt no pain. He felt nothing at all. And if he had fallen... shouldn't he have been dead? He was undeniably alive after all... at least for the moment.

Hayes opened his eyes in confusion. Beside him, the broken ends of a something lay curled limply around his hand, and a twin piece, much longer, sat coiled haphazardly not ten feet away. He screwed his face up at it, and a flash came into his mind of a vine within his grasp, half rotted but sturdy enough to hold on to for a while. He'd grabbed it, he remembered, as it swayed in the phantasmal chasm's breeze, halfway down his fall.

Hanging for dear life when the vine swung back onto the canyon wall, his side was nearly crushed from the velocity. He'd stopped, realizing that time had never returned to its normal speed for him. The terrible noises from above were still going on, but he couldn't see anyone through the fog. Skittishly, he'd tried to slide his feet along the rock face, searching for footholds, but to no avail: He was numb from the waist down.

So, Hayes hung tightly from the rotted vine, a shiver passing through him. A glance down told him his fate, and he prayed fiercely that it would end quickly. Below, he could see the canyon bottom, three stories down, and already he could hear the tear of the vine as he swung against he stonewall.

He shut his eyes tightly and gave a shuddering laugh. Why was life so cruel? To fall would mean possible life, though not without enough injury to permanently cripple him, although that had already happened. There would be no hope for him. He'd suffer first, he was sure; instead of the quick death he would have received had he not tried to save himself. He would gaggle his last dying breath on the rock bed below, and even watch in horror as his own blood leaked out below him.

And Jimmy, poor kid, would still be alone. Hayes looked up at the mist and yelled out a shuddered roar that was drowned out by the cracking of the log above. It would be crashing down any minute, he knew. The thought that perhaps Jimmy wouldn't be alone after all suddenly struck him, and that perhaps he would be joining him on the craggy burial ground they would both assuredly fall to- a hopefully quick death.

The moment the thought occurred, he knew how it had sounded and cringed. He hadn't meant it to sound so malicious: quite the opposite in fact. He simply didn't want the boy to suffer- although, living or dying, he knew he would.

The rope gave way. Two quick snaps, and Hayes attempted a reflexive grab of the vine, his decent already beginning. Less than four seconds was all it took for him to hit the ground.

And now he was here- alone on the bedrock floor, except not completely so. Around him he saw the log's shattered remains, and with it, the ragtag bunch of people that had been the rescue team. Denham, Driscoll, even Choy who had fallen separately, were all strewn across the ground. Hayes heard a snap as his neck moved to stare at them, though he felt no pain.

His eyes clouded as he saw Jimmy last. His unruly hair was undeniably his as it peaked out from beneath his green cap a sizable distance away.

He tried to cry out, but found himself paralyzed to do so, barely a squeak of a whisper passing through his lips instead. His mind cried out that it was impossible, that none of it could be real. There was no pain; there was no sound, only the sharp stab his soul had taken cried out to say 'No'.

It was all rather indisputable though. The bodies, their unmoving white limbs, each tucked beneath or overtop of something gray or something else dead, all screamed out this testament, and the blood he could see pooling just beyond his fingertips was too bright- too recognizable- to be anything but real. He tried to cry; he tried to scream at them to stand up, to go save the girl. To live. He tried to scream... he tried to... he tried...

But Jimmy... That innocent and gullible boy kept silencing his words with that stiff unmoving stance, that adjacent green hat.

"Don't make me regret this," he'd told him. "Don't make me."

The words echoed in his mind like some scratched record, or one of the birds he'd seen in Malaysia once. "Don't make me regret this."

Jimmy looked so still, so fragile, so much like everything he'd seen him as when they'd first met. Scenes flashed in his mind of the last four years, and what it had taken to gain his trust. It all seemed like such a mistake now, to have let him stay on the ship. He should have sent him off to starve somewhere in the cold of the Depression, somewhere where Hayes never would have grown so attached to him. He should have let him stow onto some other boat. He should have... he should have, and then he wouldn't be...

Dead.

The word stung worse than the realization that Jimmy would have been alone without him. Dead meant that there was no chance of loneliness. Dead meant that there would be no sadness on his account. Dead meant that there would be no joy, or laughter, or any other emotion he could have experienced once he had healed. Dead meant dead, and that was what Jimmy appeared to be.

But how could he be? He'd seen what Jimmy was like in the cargo hold four years earlier, and he knew that life hadn't been a cakewalk for him, but now fate had dealt him this? The universe seemed to have a very twisted way of looking at things; where it would allow someone like Jimmy to die so young, where others so lacking in his charisma and dedication would deserve to die much more.

Jimmy had told him that he was going to make a life for himself, somewhere away from the reefer boat. He'd said that he was reading. And he had proved it. The book hadn't exactly been achieved by straight terms, but he'd shown Hayes his dedication to it, and that was all that mattered. He'd felt so proud of him then, though he hadn't shown it. Jimmy had been like a son to him, and he'd never said so, and now...

A tear fell from his numb cheek, mixing with the sweat and blood already there. Regret. He'd told Jimmy he didn't want to regret bringing him along, but karma brought him down. And he felt such deep regret that he felt his heart would have been torn in two had he had the time to die that way. It was entirely his fault, and now he was forced to watch as his dearest friend and companion lay dead before his eyes. Yes, karma had brought him down, and come back for second helpings.

A pain began in his leg-a phantom one- and Hayes knew it was time to go. He'd already lived too long as it was. He began to steady his regrets and his tears, and he summoned up the last of his strength to say the last words he knew he would ever speak- words he knew he should have spoken long before. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a movement of green and blond, a twitch barely perceived but nonetheless there. And Hayes smiled.

Working around the coppery-dry taste in the back of his mouth, and taking in his last gulp of air, Hayes formed the words he felt needed saying, and in the darkness, he whispered, "I love you, Jimmy." And darkness slipped eternally in.

* * *

Jimmy awoke in the arms of Jack Driscoll, crying. In the back of his mind, he heard the words of a dying man who had passed on not long before, and between his sobs he tore a weak and indistinguishable, "I love you, too."

* * *

A/N: Now it's time to say some things: 

1) That was not slash, though I doubt anyone would mistake it for such. :P, 2) I hope Jimmy's hat was green and I wasn't just imagining that I saw that, 3) I hope the flashback didn't throw anyone off, 4) I would appriciate con crit, and 5) My thanks to my betas. You guys are fantastic. Thank you so much. :)

Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed. :) Please tell me if it's out of character. Thanks!


End file.
